Page 26 of The Toy Collector

But still, some dumb part of me hoped. Because whether I like it or not, that company is my last fucking chance. There’s no denying it since it’s September thirtieth.

I refresh my inbox like it owes me oxygen. Each click is CPR on a future that flatlined weeks ago. Of course, there’s nothing. Just silence so loud it makes my teeth ache.

While I’m pondering what the hell to tell Uncle Teddy since all the money he’s given me is wasted now that I’ve failed, I start drafting the email to Mrs. Ellis, thanking her for trying, and admitting I couldn’t pull it off. As much as I hate it, I have to send the words confirming my failure. But I’ll be damned if I send it before I have to. I snort as I glance at the clock in the bottom right corner of my screen. 11:57 p.m.

Just three more minutes until I officially wave the white flag.

The cursor on my screen blinks like it’s mocking me—each flicker another second slipping through my fingers. I exhale, ready to hit send and shut it all down, when a soft ping cuts through the room.

My jaw is slack, and my eyes are impossibly wide as I watch my inbox updating. I frantically click on the email, as though it’ll disappear if I’m too slow.

Subject:Interview Invitation—Blackwood Strategic Advisory

From:[email protected]

To:Piper Harrington

Dear Ms. Harrington,

Your academic achievements and focus in strategic communications and political policy have not gone unnoticed. We have followed your work with great interest and believe your values and potential align well with our firm’s mission.

We would like to formally invite you to an in-person interview for our fall internship cohort at Blackwood Strategic Advisory, a consultancy specializing in elite political strategy.

Date:October 1

Time:9:00 a.m.

Location:Blackwood HQ, Suite 14A, Washington D.C.

Attire:Business professional

Please confirm your attendance by replying to this email. We look forward to speaking with you.

Sincerely,

Maria Wilson

Executive Assistant to the CEO

Blackwood Strategic Advisory

I blink once, then again, making sure I’m not somehow reading the email wrong.

The timestamp glaring back at me reads 11:59 p.m., a minute poised on the cusp of a new day. Relief floods through me as I realize that tomorrow isn’t canceled after all, that the opportunity still stands.

My fingers fly over the keys as I type out a reply, my heart racing as I accept the invitation for tomorrow’s interview.

Chapter 11

Piper

The Blackwood Strategic Advisory headquarters looms ahead—a sleek monolith of glass and steel, humming with power and promise. As I step out of the cab, the morning chill wraps around my legs. It’s the kind that reminds you autumn has officially arrived in D.C.

I tug my blazer tighter and run my palms down the sides of my dress, wiping away the nervous sheen clinging to my skin.

The dress hugs my body in all the right places, tailored and bold without being loud. Deep green panels framed in black contour down from the structured shoulders to the hem just above my knees, creating sharp lines that feel almost architectural.

It’s sleeveless and just the right amount of modest. It’s not prudish by any means, and it shows just enough skin to remind them I’m not here to disappear. My black stilettos are clean and pointed, about three inches—tall enough to make a statement, but low enough that I won’t wobble.

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